If Your Eyes Were Mine
by thirteen-forty-two
Summary: Izaya his having a tough time getting out of bed. Angst/Fluff.


**Author's Note:** If only I could get oneshots like these done more often!

Life would be bliss!

* * *

><p>Empty and starving…<p>

Starving for substance.

Starving for _more_.

Hopeless. Wretched. Depraved.

Diseased.

Forcing himself to suck in one breath after the other, Orihara Izaya rolled onto his side, eyes brimming with tears as he clutched the pillow beneath his head. Desperation was visible in his grasp had anyone been with him to witness such a pitiful scene.

Life no longer seemed to be worth living. Immortality had lost its radiance, while each of his plans sat useless, unfulfilled, with their purposes forgotten. What as the point of it all if it left him alone in the end?

And worst of all, he couldn't remember how it got this way.

With a careless, unheard whimper, garnet eyes clamped shut, squeezing out a stream of relentless tears. Each following breath became an asphyxiating sob.

When?

When did he begin to feel this way?

Where did it come from? Why did it first arise?

Sinking deeper into blankets and sheets, Izaya pulled the covers over his head to further hide himself from a world that wasn't even watching. It made him feel worse. Infinitely, indubitably, irreversibly… worse.

Why today? Why now?

Hadn't yesterday, and so many days before, been so wonderful? Or had he been lying to himself all along?

The raven was beginning to believe that all of these years, he knew far less about himself than he had ever realized.

This indescribable strike of pain, burning and stinging and stabbing him in the chest, was worse than any death he could imagine. His mind was cluttered by nothing but forlorn darkness.

The morning sun had brought with it more life to Tokyo, intensifying its constantly thriving pulse. People – humans – were walking the streets in thousands, carrying on with their day-to-day lives without even considering his existence. An existence which he fought diligently to make known as not to be compared with the ordinary lives of said humans, who he was supposed to reign over with pride and confidence.

Where had it gone?

Spring gave the air a sensation of rebirth. And still he found himself numb.

For the first time, Izaya truly felt like a meaningless flea on the earth's vast surface. One of billions. Nobody special. Nothing to love.

This was reality crushing him little by little; squeezing the very air he choked down out of his lungs.

By the time his digital clock read 2:00PM, it had become obvious he was not leaving the confines of his bedroom today, much less his mattress. His body begged him not to move any more than he had to in order to become comfortable with his internal agony.

More than anything, he wanted to believe that there was something better than this – something strong enough to take the pain away.

It was like a great joke that nobody but he understood.

Drowning in his own degradation, Izaya did not hear the meek creek of his bedroom door as it opened; nor did his closed eyes see the figure towering over him while he continued to hide beneath his blankets.

"What…? Hey…" the brunet jolted toward the rumble of a gruff voice – a loud shock against the silence he had been enveloped in for hours on end.

The familiar sound only intensified his current sentiments, making him feel guilty on top of such things. There was no reason. And that sound… _that_ sound was a reminder.

So piteous… like an earthworm drying out on a sidewalk beneath the summer sun. Withered and wrinkled and helpless, Izaya curled into himself.

"Have you been here all day?" the voice wondered.

A new weight was added to the mattress, and Izaya knew he was not alone, or hearing voices in his screwy mind. Shifting uncomfortably, he wanted to bury himself more. Shame had him scared; desperate to hide before he admitted a word of the truth.

He couldn't honor that question with a response; yet the lack of one said all that the inquirer needed to know – if not more.

"Flea?" that nickname stopped his heart for several seconds.

A shudder soon rippled through him. These blankets would never be enough now, igniting within him the desire to dig a deep hole and bury himself in it.

"Tch. What's wrong with you today?" his company was annoyed, forcing a whimper out of him as he found himself pinned beneath that added weight – or, even more specifically, a pair of Ikebukuro's strongest arms. "Seriously? What the hell is this silent treatment about?"

Fed up with Izaya's avoidance Shizuo gripped the charcoal sheets, trying his hardest not to rip them as he pulled the fabric away from the raven's face. What he discovered both shocked him, and broke his heart.

Izaya, feeling those fiery gold eyes fixated on him, did not look back at his partner. With tears freely flowing, he could not find the intestinal fortitude amongst his lacking dignity. Nothing could be more shameful. Nothing in these twisted moments pained him more.

Bewildered, it was all the blond could do to count the red streaks left by the salty rivulets on silky, pale flesh.

There was still far too much he did not understand.

"Izaya…" the man in question found himself relieved to hear a softening in the other's harsh voice.

"I…" he began, immediately wondering if it was worth it to give his secrets away. He struggled through a confession. "I… Everyone hates me. Don't they Shizuo?"

The lack of a nickname he usually hears from his lover's lips is somewhat terrifying; a true display of the brunet's honest, unmasked misery.

"But… I feel like nobody knows who I am to begin with…"

Izaya still refused eye contact; unsure of whether or not it made him feel better or worse to have Shizuo stare at him with nothing to say in return. Fortunately, before he was forced to utter another agonizing word, the taller man released a long, heavy sigh.

Sparing a moment to remove his vest, belt, and tie, Shizuo settled down beside the brunet, using one arm to pull him close against his warm chest. Nuzzling his face in the informant's hair, he took a deep breath, enjoying the sweet scent of the shampoo used the night before.

Such an incredible night. Too great to be awoken by melancholy torment.

What could he do? What words could he use to pull the raven out of the dark corners of his mind?

"I know who you are…" he breathed against the smaller creature's silky tresses, "And I don't hate it."

Izaya emitted a sound akin to a scoff, evidently unimpressed by Shizuo's attempt. He could tell immediately that the man did not believe in him, and even if he did, it was not nearly enough to douse the agony, burning like bitter flames against his slowly beating heart.

Fearing that his lacking talent with words might scare Izaya that much deeper into depravity, he held him tighter, offering up a simple suggestion. "Okay then…" he seemed to understand, "We'll stay right here until it stops."

Struggling to take in a breath as fresh sobs racked his small body, Izaya nodded twice in compliance with Shizuo; easily agreeing that it may have been the best option for the time being. Weakened by whatever travesty responsible for inflicting such pain, he did not believe in his capability to handle much else. Having the blond in such close proximity was difficult enough to stomach.

Fortunately, he knew he was safe to say the very least. So long as he remained close, the raven was sure to be protected from himself, if nothing else. And he was no longer afraid to cry – to truly let these emotions go – when he discovered just how desperately he needed to.

Shizuo didn't need to know. He didn't need to ask. Somehow, all of his questions were answered simply by knowing the raven. Pressure was building up, he was sure.

Ever since their relationship had become a public awareness, Izaya had faced a change, as if the karma coming back at him was nothing more than his own securities. No more gang threats. No more stabbings. No more chases. Life was changing, and with it, so was he. That conscience he never gave a shit about before… it was real… it mattered.

Once again, he allowed himself to lose track of time, slipping through each hour with Shizuo at his side.

The rest of the day moved on slowly, but even if it stopped, there would never be enough time.

Izaya spent those hours weeping, allowing Shizuo, and Shizuo alone, to see the tears flowing by their own free will over his skin. Crying, and comforted, there was no fear of judgment here, only warmth. Only a love he had never known.

Long fingers combed through his tangled, inky tresses, delicately removing the knots and flattening the fly-away strands before moving back down to trace small circles on his hip bone. Circles which left his skin tingling with heat.

Unable to handle the burning ministrations much longer, Izaya rolled onto his back, halfheartedly wiping the salty rivulets from his cheeks, even as they continued to form in his eyes.

The blond to his side took this opportunity to press a kiss against his forehead. "I love you," he whispered gently into the raven's ear, following it with another soft kiss.

Disbelieving, Izaya turned his head away, focusing his empty gaze anywhere but on Shizuo.

"I mean it," he frowned with growing concern.

"Tch…" Izaya would have been laughing on any other day, at any other time, "I don't deserve it… I don't deserve it from you, of all people…"

"How can you say that?" Shizuo sat up, staring at the smaller man; golden eyes so hurt and perplexed and… too beautiful for Izaya to describe with clever words or romanticized metaphors.

Just Shizuo. Heiwajima Shizuo.

"Why would you want me?" the informant's voice quivered.

"I could ask you the same thing, Izaya…"

"Because…" claret eyes clamped shut all over again, too ashamed to turn back and look back at the other man, "Because you're incredible… Because everything you are is something that deserves to be loved."

"And that's exactly how I feel about you."

"Don't lie to me, Shizuo…"

"I'm not! I never would!" Determined to make his counterpart see just what it was that he found so worth loving, Shizuo crawled over Izaya, pinning the information broker between his strong arms. "What makes you think…"

Izaya turned his head away yet again, determined not to focus on the honest eyes of the man trapping him.

"What's so incredible?" he put up one hell of a fight, as if he was determined to make Shizuo hate him, just like everybody else – to turn the tables back as they once were. "Make me believe that there's something to love."

Nothing but honesty could be read in those dull garnet orbs. Shizuo's heart broke for the man whose own heart could break no further.

"Whoever this is," Izaya referred to himself with disgust, "I don't want to be him anymore."

"Izaya… who this is is _perfect,_" Shizuo swore, bringing a forlorn pair of eyes back to his own – though, not without some pessimistic scrutiny from his opposite.

"Tch. Haven't you heard? There's no such thing as perfect."

"But you are. Flaws and all." The blond ignored the raven's sneer. "Everything you are sets you apart from the rest. You're fucking extraordinary."

"How?" the informant challenged his lover further.

Shizuo felt a familiar swelling in his chest – the heat of which reminding him of the feelings which consumed him the first time he told Izaya that maybe, just maybe, he didn't hate him after all.

"You're smart for one thing," he refused to lose to the brunet, "Ridiculously fucking smart."

"That doesn't make me anything special…"

"But you don't let it go to waste on mundane jobs that anyone with a university education could do. You use it on whacked out twist and turns that only you could think of. You know everything there is to know about everyone."

"People hate me for it."

"Yet they'll still pay you thirty-thousand yen to ask you a question. They follow you, hanging off your every word."

"I never said they were intelligent," the broker rolled his eyes, attempting to deny that the way the bodyguard spoke to him in such a determined, complimentary tone, didn't have him feeling better already.

"Who cares about them? It's _you_."

"What else?"

"Your eyes." Izaya narrowed them into sharp slits at these words. "I can't think of anyone else with eyes like yours. It's like that red is a warning sign that nobody can fuck with you. Like you're on top of the fucking world and you have it all figured out."

"I don't feel on top of the world."

Shizuo pressed his lips into Izaya's, soaking in the hitch of the smaller man's breath before pulling away. "Nobody needs to know that. We'll keep it a secret."

"Ne? Anything else you'd like to add before I shut you up?" the brunet leered.

"Yeah. You don't have to be something amazing to all those humans you obsess over. You're amazing to me. And I love you way more than any of them ever could."

Izaya's current mask slipped off, vanishing before Shizuo's earnest saffron eyes. He searched them longingly, waiting for the bodyguard to toss his head back and laugh at a joke nobody made. But he knew better. It wasn't in the blond's nature to make something up like he would.

There was no punch line.

"Do you really mean that, Shizuo?" Izaya whispered, sounding much more timid than intended.

"I wouldn't be here now if it weren't true," Shizuo insisted. "I don't care about who you've been or who you will be. I care about you. Right here; right now."

"After all I've done… All I've put you through…"

"Stop it, Izaya," Shizuo huffed, beginning to show very subtle traces of fraying patience. "Stop being so hard on yourself."

A fresh onslaught of tears surfaced once again. At a loss for words, he accepted his lover's embrace, sinking into Shizuo's arms as if to wordlessly beg him not to let go. It was a difficult challenge not to shatter completely.

"Whatever it is that brought this on, just know I won't leave you until it passes."

Clinging to that promise, Izaya closed his eyes, pouring the last of his energy into tears before drifting to sleep. If he couldn't believe in himself, maybe believing in Shizuo could somehow be enough.


End file.
